You're Mine
by Tehri
Summary: An AU-story: Arthur Kirkland is a very successful police, who is constantly followed around by the town's recent criminal plague, Alfred F. Jones. When Arthur one night gets abducted and wakes up in a dark room, handcuffed to a bed, what is he to do?


**Author's Note: Inspired by a picture on deviantArt by NamineMizuu. The picture in question would be this one: **http:// naminemizuu. deviantart. com / art/ USxUK-Hetalia-Trade- 150567337 **Remove the spaces if you want to have a look at it. :D**

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Arthur cursed angrily and squirmed; he had surely been stuck for more than an hour, and he had absolutely no idea about where he was. The handcuffs were not exactly tight, but due to attempting to pull his hands out several times, his wrists hurt. He could clearly remember chasing some kids who had attempted to break into a store somewhere, and he recalled following them into an alley... Then, he could recall a sharp pain on the back of his head, and then it was blank, until he woke up, cuffed to a damn bed. His uniform was gone, except for the shirt and the hat... Now, why the hell would they leave the _hat_...? Luckily, he still had his underwear on as well. But the room was dark, and he could not make out any specific details, such as, say, the _door_... Which left him very annoyed. He wasn't afraid of the dark, but he didn't like waking up handcuffed to a bed in a dark room.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, finally giving up on freeing his wrists. "What am I going to do...?"

He sighed deeply and leant back. He could only hope that someone had noticed that he was gone... And preferably not Francis bloody Bonnefoy... He hated that man, after all.

"Just... _Someone_," he sighed. "I'm not fond of the thought of wasting away like this..."

"Now, who the hell said you'd waste away, old man?"

Arthur startled and quickly stared in the direction of the voice; he could make out a doorway, and in said doorway stood a young man with a torch. From what he could see in the light, the man had blonde hair (with one wild strand that stood right up) and blue eyes, and he wore glasses. He was fairly tall, and wore a bomber jacket... Now, where had he heard that before...?

"Oh bloody hell," he whispered. "Not _you_..."

Of course he knew who this was; you didn't take work as a police officer nowadays in this city without knowing who Alfred F. Jones was. The young man (or well, no one really knew how old he was, just that he had shown up two years ago) had, along with a person who was presumably his brother, taken up contacts with different criminal groups and started to form his own little gang. The criminal groups were actually very reluctant to stand up to him (except for the Russians; their smiling creepy bastard of a leader wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, it seemed), but no one knew why. The boy was known to see himself as a "hero", for some reason, and he apparently liked to believe that he fought for freedom and that he could stand up to absolutely anyone and survive. He was not insane, despite what one could believe. And he was hardly known for his crimes. Instead, it was more because of that no one knew where he was, no one knew how to catch him. Nothing. Arthur was one of few officers who had both seen and actually met him a few times before; the lad had taken a strange liking to him, and sometimes sought him out in broad daylight just for the sake of teasing him and to get a thrill out of it. In fact, he had broken into Arthur's home once, effectively scared the shit out of the copper and made him throw a very heavy book at him. His ego had however survived; a great pity, in Arthur's eyes.

"Why the bloody hell have you done this?!" Arthur felt furious. "Why the fuck would you knock me out and then drag me to this place?! Where the hell am I?!"

Alfred grinned at him and stepped into the room, kicking the door closed. He seemed fairly content with the current situation.

"You know, I thought you'd be smarter," he chuckled. "Those kids just wanted some money, and I could give it to them. For a favour, of course. They just smashed that window because they knew that you were there, and they ran like hell to the alley where I was. I didn't think you'd run that far, really. Not alone, at least." He stepped closer to the bed, his grin getting wider. "But hey, I don't complain!"

Arthur growled angrily, pulling at the handcuffs again. He absolutely hated being around the brat, but right now he had no choice. At least if he came any closer, he'd get kicked where it really hurt...

"Seriously though, Iggy, why don't you ever come and look for me?"

He groaned loudly.

"Why the _hell_ do you insist on calling me that," Arthur asked, glaring angrily at the kid. "You probably know my name already, you damn brat, so why do you keep calling me something so _childish_?! I'm not "Iggy", I'm Arthur!"

Alfred laughed and quickly stepped over to him, avoiding a kick on the way. His blue eyes glinted.

"I'll call you Iggy if I want to," he replied cheerily. "It's not like you can do anything to me right now. Such as, say, _throw a fucking book at me_." He raised an eyebrow. "What the hell did you do that for, anyway?"

"You scared me, you moron! You had broken into my house, of course I got scared! The book was just the closest thing at hand, if I had been in the kitchen it would've been a knife!"

The brat just laughed again and sat down on the edge of the bed; Arthur only kept glaring at him. The brat was damn annoying, and to suddenly be kidnapped by him... Well, it wasn't the Brit's best day at work, was it?

"Heh, you're cute when you're angry." The American tilted his head, the ever present grin widening a little bit as he looked into his captive's emerald eyes. "Your eyes start to flash like that... I like it. It makes you look kind of fierce."

A hand came out to touch Arthur's cheek, and a mere moment later it was pulled back; Arthur had actually bit him, hard enough to draw blood. And now, Alfred's grin had finally vanished, only to be replaced by a scowl and an angry glare.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"Don't touch me, you damn scum!" Arthur glared back. "What, did you believe that I would just allow you to do whatever you want without fighting back? Just let me go, I don't have anything you'd want!"

A slight smirk came to Alfred's face again (his anger didn't seem to last long), and he trailed his hand over the Englishman's chest, ignoring the man's attempts at kicking him.

"If there wasn't something I wanted from you, you wouldn't be here," he replied quietly. "If you didn't have anything I wanted, I wouldn't have gone through all this trouble, _officer_... In fact, you're the only one who can give me what I want." He climbed up on the bed, forced the cuffed man to spread his legs. "I've learned a few things about you lately, you know. Part of that is that you look pretty good without the uniform on... Or well, without _anything_ that could be seen as clothes." A knee grinded against Arthur's groin, making him let out a gasp. "Another thing is that I really want you."

Arthur squirmed, stubbornly trying to kick him from the very awkward angle. He was not going to let the blasted git get any further, absolutely not! But the brat leant forward, still smirking, and looked right into his eyes.

"You'll just hurt yourself if you continue like this," he said. "I've also learned that you'd just slip away if I didn't come at you like this."

Arthur felt how a blush began to rise to his cheeks, and he attempted to kick the brat again. This was absolutely humiliating...

"Bugger," he growled. "Where the hell is Bonnefoy when one might actually _need_ him..."

Alfred stopped, frowning slightly as he looked at the cuffed copper.

"Bonnefoy? You mean Francis Bonnefoy?" Blue eyes blinked. "... Huh, so he wasn't joking when he said that he knew you pretty well..." The poor Englishman could only stare. This brat _knew_ Francis?! "... Why are you staring? He's dating my brother, so I ought to know him. Not just about anyone is allowed to date my brother, you know."

"T-that bastard is _going out_ with someone he should put in _jail_?!" Green eyes flashed again. "What the hell?! What the bloody _hell_ is wrong with him?!"

The American raised an eyebrow and chuckled. He had thought that the Englishman was pretty funny before, but this was even better. Not only did he finally have the man in the same room, without him trying to escape. He could do whatever he wanted right now. And when he was done, there was just no way that this little copper would try to arrest him. He trailed his hand over Arthur's chest again, before suddenly grabbing the shirt to pull it off. The ripping sound that came when the seams burst and the cloth tore was extremely satisfying; as soon as the shirt was all gone, he leant down and nibbled at Arthur's collarbone, The Englishman tasted sweet, in some way... That thought was quickly driven away as the Brit managed to bring up one knee and hit the American's ribs.

"_Ow_! What the hell?!"

"Get off me!"

"Hell to the naw! Stop kicking me! I'm trying to be nice!"

"Your idea of being _nice_ is to knock a man unconscious and use handcuffs to tie him to a bed?! What's wrong with you, you sodding git?! Were you dropped on your head when you were a child, or what?! Actually scratch that, you're _still_ just a bloody child! And it's damn obvious that someone _did_ drop y-"

He was silenced within a moment, as Alfred crashed his lips against Arthur's. The kiss was far from gentle; wild, passionate, furious... It seemed that the lad did not enjoy being called a child, Arthur realised as the brat bit down on his lower lip, making the older man hiss like an angered snake.

"Don't ever fucking say that again..." Alfred sounded surprisingly feral when he spoke. "I am not a child!"

He raked his nails over the Englishman's chest, leaving red lines on the pale skin.

"I'm being nicer than I would've been to others," he growled. "Because I happen to like you. But right now, you're pissing me off a bit, so I might be considering if I should drag you to that other room."

A slightly sarcastic smile showed on Arthur's lips. That threat would probably have been terrifying if the one who said was one of his siblings, and not this brat. But as it was, he didn't feel very frightened at all. True, the boy looked angry, and he seemed serious; but for some reason, the Englishman could just not take the threat seriously.

"Oh, I am _so_ scared right now," he teased, rolling his eyes slightly. "Oh, someone help me, a little brat is angry with me. Woe is me." He smirked. "You're about as scary as a piece of fluff, or a small teddy bear. I'm _related_ to the only ones who can make me feel absolutely terrified, and they're luckily far away."

Alfred raised an eyebrow slightly, his anger seemingly melting away for a moment.

"... Woah, your family must be totally fucked up." He grinned again. "Then again, you're pretty fucked up yourself, so it makes sense. And those _eyebrows_..."

Another kick, harder this time. The American groaned and got off the bed, glaring slightly at the older man.

"Well, fine," he muttered. "I'll leave you alone for a while longer."

As he left the room, Arthur could only glare after him. The brat had been far too close, absolutely far too close. And it seemed that he would be back later...

_I wonder what he'll do_, he thought to himself when the door closed. _What's with him, anyway...?_

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_

Arthur had managed to drift off to sleep at some point, but now he was suddenly wide awake again. He didn't know why he had woken up, but he felt that he ought to stay awake. He squinted a little, trying to at least see a shadow or something in the dark. But there was nothing. He sighed quietly and closed his eyes again, ready to go back to sleep, when the sound of a key being pushed into the lock suddenly made him blink and frown slightly. As the door opened, a quiet and timid voice sounded.

"U-uhm.... A-are you awake...?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he finally managed to see the person who had spoken. He looked suspiciously like the damned git who had been there earlier, but he seemed much more timid... And he had a strange, slightly curled, strand of hair as well... In one hand, he held a small tray, and he cradled a white bear with his other arm.

"Who the bleeding hell are you?"

Not very polite, but it was the first thing that came to the captive's mind. The lad came into the room, pushing the door closed with his foot, and stepped over to the bed.

"M-my name is Matthew," he explained with a vague smile; he spoke very quietly, and despite that there was no other sound nearby, Arthur could only just hear him. "M-Matthew Williams... I'm Al's brother..." The Englishman blinked and stared, but before he could say something, the timid lad laughed nervously. "Ah... I know, we're... We look alike... At least a bit... But we don't have the same surname... O-our parents are divorced, a-and... And I grew up with our dad... Mom took care of Al..."

Arthur pondered the words for a moment; was it wise of the boy to speak to him like this? He was, after all, giving information about his brother...

"Ah, I'm sorry," Matthew suddenly gasped. "I brought you some food..! I... I mean, you m-must be hungry... A-Alfred didn't... He didn't think of that at first, a-and he's k-kind of busy... S-so I made something... It's just... just some soup, though..."

Arthur blinked in surprise. Wasn't he their captive...? He had, during his career in the force, helped with rescuing several captives, and they had often barely been fed at all. But then again, these two were young... A bit too young to do what they were doing. Perhaps they would be a bit more merciful.

"Thank you," Arthur mumbled quietly. "But I can't really sit up right now, so... And even if I could, my hands are pretty much stuck."

The lad scooted closer and put down the tray next to the bed.

"I'll feed you," he replied. "W-well... It's... a bit degrading, but y-you need to eat..."

A faint smile showed on the Englishman's face. Matthew seemed rather polite, at least, a complete difference from his idiotic git of a brother... Shy, but polite.

"It's fine," he said. "I don't mind."

As the boy fed him, Arthur decided that it might be a good idea to ask him about some things. If the lad didn't want to answer, it wouldn't be worth to continue asking, most likely. Question after question was answered; soon he knew how old they both were (19 and 18; Matthew was the younger one), that they were born in different countries (Alfred was from America and Matthew was from Canada), he had found out how they had arrived in the town, homeless and weary, and that they led a pretty big group already. Once he got talking, Matthew seemed very keen to get things off his chest.

"Al can get kind of violent," he explained quietly when Arthur had asked about an assault that had been reported in by one of their informers a few weeks ago. "When he's really angry, he just... snaps. Sometimes he doesn't remember what happens... And it just worries me... But it doesn't happen that often, luckily." He smiled quickly and settled the now empty bowl back on the tray. "He means well, he really does... But he doesn't think that he can make you people understand... I mean, it's-"

Before he got any further, Arthur spoke up.

"People don't listen to those who are homeless," he said softly. "They can't put themselves in that situation; they don't know what it's like. They "feel sorry" every time they hear something on the news about it, but when they see a homeless man or woman or child on the street, they turn away and look at something fancy instead. Something that the shunned ones only dream of..." He looked at the Canadian and smiled faintly. "I know, Matthew. Everyone isn't lucky. Francis was, and so was I... But that doesn't mean that everyone else will be."

"... You were homeless?"

"I was a kid..." Arthur chuckled at the surprised stare. "My parents died early, and we were forced out on the street, my siblings and I. Francis was around a lot, he had been out for a while... Knew his way around, knew the best way to get money or food... Knew where it was safe to sleep and where you'd get harassed, or worse." He sighed. "We were lucky enough to find some people who wanted to help us... So we got off the street, got a decent education and managed to do well in our lives..." A slightly bitter smile came to his lips. "That doesn't mean that we forgot. Francis and I try to keep up with everything that happens in this world, but it's been more difficult since you lads came here. You've gathered everyone around you, and we can't even make our usual "sources" tell us anything. They don't want to get in trouble with their new boss... But they didn't commit crimes before this happened. They never did."

Matthew nodded slowly to show that he understood.

"Alfred doesn't normally allow things like that to happen," he said. "He doesn't like committing crimes, but lately it's been necessary..."

The door suddenly opened, and there stood Alfred, raising an eyebrow as he looked at them.

"Mattie," he said. "I told you I'd bring him something. By the way, your boyfriend called."

The Canadian quickly got up, picked up the tray and fled from the room, a bit nervous about that Alfred might yell at him about something. But the American just looked after him for a moment before stepping into the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

"Had a nice talk, huh?" He smiled, but it wasn't that beaming "I'm a freaking genius"-smile he had showed before. "Mattie always talks a bit too much when he thinks that he can confide in someone. Took a while before I really thought I could trust that French guy, too. But, you know, you weren't supposed to hear all that. Not at all."

Arthur rolled his eyes; at least Matthew had been a pleasant company... This brat was just plainly annoying.

"You're not gaining anything on this, lad," he muttered. "Keeping me like this won't do anything."

"Yes, I'm gaining something." Alfred smiled smugly. "You won't run off to tell anyone about where we are or anything like it." He stepped over to the bed and eyed the Englishman. "You send quite many to jail, you know, for very petty things. The law can't be followed to a hundred percent. Couldn't you just leave them be, huh? It's not like it helps."  
Emerald eyes locked with bright cerulean ones for a short moment; Arthur looked away first, something akin to sadness grazing his face.

"It gives them a chance," he said quietly, stubbornly avoiding the American's gaze. "I hate the way that people look away from them. I can't do anything about it, more than try to make sure that they get a chance to step into the life everyone else lives..." His lips twitched into a small smile. "By committing crimes, they get attention, but not the kind of attention they need. Someone needs to help them, to give them that chance..." He blinked suddenly and looked back at the lad, glaring angrily at him. "Not that you'd care about what I think. I'm just another annoying copper to you, anyway. How long did you stalk Bonnefoy until he caved in, hm?"

Alfred blinked in surprise and shook his head slowly. He sat down on the bed, eyeing his captive pensively; the Brit really knew how to be suspicious, didn't he? But there was no need to be that way...

"He stalked Mattie," he replied with a lopsided smile. "It was kind of creepy at first, but Mattie made him promise not to give anything away. Looks like he fooled you too."

Arthur growled angrily and glared daggers at the lad, who only laughed at the look he got. If there was something that made the Englishman absolutely furious, then it was that the damned frog had actually fooled him; and thinking back on the past three months, there had been a million of hints. So much for the rumour about being the best police the town had ever seen... He couldn't even see through such a simple lie, and Francis Bonnefoy was not exactly known for being a good liar either...

"I wouldn't have said anything," Arthur snapped. "If you had just bloody _asked me_, I would've kept quiet!"

Alfred shook his head again.

"I don't trust you enough for that," he admitted. "You seem like you could be kind if you tried, but you're stricter than Bonnefoy. You try harder to follow the law."

The Englishman snorted and looked away. So the boy hadn't heard everything, then. Of course, many of the things he had done had been denied by his boss, and if the press had speculated anything, the force did (as a rule, almost) deny it vehemently. His temper could easily get him in trouble, and he knew it very well. But it was rather difficult to keep it in check...

"It is painfully obvious that you're not from this town," he muttered, earning an odd look from the lad. "People around here are rather familiar with my temper." A sarcastic smile spread on his lips. "It's not like I can follow the law all the time, not with the way this society is."

Blue eyes glimmered slightly as the lad leant down over Arthur, a smirk on his lips. Alfred trailed one of his hands over the shorter man's bare chest, earning a (very dignified) squeak and a glare.

"I couldn't help but hearing what you told Mattie earlier," he said. "So you were a little _delinquent_ like us, huh? And you're still sticking it to the man every now and then?" He laughed. "Pretty awesome, for an old man."

Arthur twitched. _Old man_?! He was only four years older than this stupid brat, blast it! That small difference did absolutely not make him an old man!

"Bloody git," he growled. "I'm not old! I'm only 23! There's not more than four years between us!" He glowered at the bright grin that flashed on the younger man's face. "Now get away from me!"

But the American would not move away; instead, he leant closer and stared at the flashing emerald eyes, the slightly flushed face.

"You know what I like about you...?" The words were spoken in a barely audible whisper. "You know what really sets me off when I see you, whenever I talk to you...?" The grin faded to a surprisingly gentle smile as Alfred saw the furious, scared and slightly confused look in the British man's eyes. "Your voice gets to me first... Always, always your voice. Cold, commanding, demanding as well... Still capable of being gentle and kind..."

His hand slowly moved to touch Arthur's cheek, to touch that velvet-like skin that was pale and perfect only a little while ago; now, the skin had taken an interesting shade of pink. The hand continued up, fingers slowly threading through the messy blonde hair.

"The second thing is your hair," he continued softly. "It just.... I can't really help it, every time I see you it's like someone's stolen a spotlight and aimed it at your hair. It just... shines. All the time, like gold... Like sunshine, or... I don't really know... But it looks really beautiful."

Sky blue eyes stared into the deep forest green orbs below. Arthur tried to look away, but found that he couldn't; he kept staring back, not breaking the contact even once.

"And your eyes," Alfred said with a smile. "I always start to stare... And I always think of green forests, beautiful fields..." He let out a low chuckle. "And then I look at you, really _look_... And I think about how I want you to be mine, only mine. Always mine... I just thought that I couldn't have you, that you belonged with someone else. Then..." His eyes glittered, and the smile seemed to get frigid. "Then I thought that even if you belonged with someone else... I could still have you at least once. I won't let anyone else take your first time, you know."

Arthur stared at the boy in shock; he couldn't have heard right! The brat had the nerve to say something like that, to _claim_ him with words alone, and...

And dear _god_, it actually made him _blush_! He was used to have people coming on to him, of course. It was more or less a side-effect of knowing Francis, but he wasn't used to _this_... To have someone so openly declare that he was going to take Arthur's virginity was frightening, and yet... thrilling, exciting...

"What if I've already been with someone, then," Arthur asked quietly, curious to see the boy's reaction. "What would you do?"

Alfred laughed and trailed one hand through the Brit's hair again.

"I'd be annoyed," he admitted. "But I'd have you anyway, to remove someone else's scent from you. Luckily, I know that you've never been with a man before, so it's fine."

Arthur let out a protesting noise and squirmed; the brat couldn't know, could he? Or had Francis babbled (again)? After all, the frog had known him for a very big part of his life, and had always looked over his shoulder (in fact, the man had sometimes resorted to outright stalking when Arthur was trying to keep something hidden from him)... So the Frenchman knew a lot about the currently embarrassed Englishman, after all. It was _possible_, no, actually it _had_ to be that Francis had been a blabbermouth. Again. As always. Stupid frog...

"I should have known," he growled. "That bleeding frog, I'm going to kill him whe- _Mnh_!"

It took him a moment to understand what was going on. Alfred was kissing him. _Kissing_ him...! It took yet another moment before Arthur felt a tongue slide past his lips to explore his mouth.

_What the hell?!_ The blush came to the Englishman's cheeks before he had a chance to catch up with his thoughts. _W-what does he think he's doing?!_

As he bit down on the tongue, hard enough to draw some blood, Alfred yelped loudly and moved away, yelping again when Arthur didn't let go at once. When he finally got his tongue back, he glared angrily at the furiously blushing man beneath him.

"That hurt," he muttered, a pout slowly starting to form. "Why did you do that?! It was just a kiss!"

Arthur growled menacingly and made a feeble attempt at kicking the boy.

"I don't want you to kiss me, you twat," he hissed. "I don't want you near me at all! You can't just assu-"

He was silenced by yet another kiss, this one fiercer than the last. But somehow, it was very enjoyable, and Arthur made no attempt to stop the lad this time. His mind kept screaming bloody murder and his body seemed to be thinking something along the lines of "_oh, yes, yes_". Normally, his mind would've been greater in the end, but his body seemed to be winning this time. Besides, the American truly seemed to want him... Said American moved back again, a lopsided grin on his lips.

"At least I found a good way to shut you up," he chuckled. "And it's a bonus that you taste good."

As if to put emphasis on these words, he tilted his head a little and licked at Arthur's neck, smirking when he heard the Brit let out a low groan.

"J-just stop it...!" Arthur shivered and squirmed as a large hand trailed over his chest and stomach. "Nh... S-stop! Please, t-that's not..." He let out a gasp as the Alfred began to plant kisses along his jaw and down over his neck, stopping only for a moment to nibble at his collarbone. "Hn...! D-don't...!"

He knew too well that his body did not agree with his words, and it was all too obvious that the younger man had already realised it. But good _God_, the lad certainly knew what he was doing...! He squirmed again, and noticed to his surprise that Alfred kept his hand completely still; but thanks to the squirming, the fingers trailed over the Englishman's hardening nipple.

"Your body doesn't seem to care about what you say." Alfred gave the older man a roguish grin. "I think I like that reaction... You just keep squirming, and the way you gasp... It's getting me rather turned on, you know... It's really sexy."

The kisses were moved a little bit downwards, the soft lips trailing over Arthur's nipples; he got a slightly strangled mewl as a reward. Teeth grazed over one of the hard nubs, and the Englishman pulled at the handcuffs as a loud gasp passed over his lips.

"_Ah_! N-no, don't d-do that...!"

The American sent him a Cheshire Cat-grin as a response. He was certainly not moving away right now, not when he really had the older man where he wanted him.

_O-oh dear God_, Arthur thought, gasping loudly again. _He... S-stupid brat...! N-not there! Not there!_

The kisses continued on downwards, one hand travelling ahead. Alfred hooked his fingers in the hem of Arthur's underwear and tugged slightly, his grin somehow getting even wider as he watched the Englishman's eyes follow his every move.

"You really shouldn't say no," Alfred chided gently. "Not when your body responds like this... Look, you're already getting hard, and I've barely done anything yet..."

For a brief moment, Arthur thought about if now would be a good idea to make an attempt at kicking the lad in the face or not; but once the American allowed his free hand to ghost over the growing bulge in the Brit's boxers, he quickly changed his mind. This wasn't supposed to happen; he wasn't supposed to like it at all, not once bit. But now that it was happening, it was getting incredibly difficult to keep his mind on what he _should_ be doing (i.e. trying to keep the brat away) rather than what his body wanted him to do (i.e. just _give up already and let the man do what he wanted_).

He felt that the boxers were slowly removed; he could hear how they flew through the air only to land in a dark corner... And he felt how Alfred's warm breath ghosted over his lower regions. But when he expected that the brat would come with some sort of a witty comment, not a single word was heard in the room. Arthur could simply not look away; he kept watching, watched how Alfred gently nudged his legs a bit further apart before he began to plant kisses along Arthur's inner thigh while his hand kept trailing over the hardening length, applying a little more pressure every time. And all the time, the lips kept coming closer and closer... Finally they brushed over the sensitive skin, making Arthur yelp and squirm, trying to move his legs together again to keep the American away; but Alfred stubbornly kept them apart, brushing both lips and tongue over the erect limb.

"I'll be nice," Alfred whispered, smirking as he heard Arthur gasp again. "As long as you try not to lie to me, I'll be nice. Just tell me what you want me to do." He closed his eyes and gently pressed his hand against the Englishman's crotch. "Well? Tell me. I'm waiting."

Arthur shivered; he wasn't certain about what he should say. He couldn't know if the brat was only playing with him or not. After all, making Arthur lose his composure seemed to be one of the American's favourite games. What if this was only a game as well? He didn't want to take the risk...

"I want you to get the hell off me," he finally said. "I'm sick of you and your bloody games!"

Alfred raised an eyebrow and smiled sweetly.

"Wrong answer," he chuckled. "I'm not moving. And this is not a game." The pressure increased a little, and the Brit could only barely hold back a groan. "But it looks like I'll have to do this the hard way, then."

The smile turned into a smirk, and a moment later, the American had put his lips and tongue to use again. Gasped moans were continuously drawn from the older man's lips, mixed up with different pleas for Alfred to stop or to continue; he could barely make up his mind. He knew that he probably shouldn't be doing this, but at the same time, it felt so good... And when the American calmly began to take him into his mouth, he moaned, arched his back and nearly forgot about what he had been thinking. He pulled violently at the handcuffs, he tried to do _something_ that wasn't quite registered by his brain, but Alfred calmly held him still. Arthur felt his entire body tremble while he tried to focus his thoughts again; but the only thing he kept thinking about was the warm, moist feeling of the American's mouth around his arousal, slowly taking in more and more, all the time sucking gently, and the tongue that trailed along the length... When that suddenly disappeared, he let out a low whine, which apparently amused the brat.

"I thought you wanted me to stop," Alfred teased, a cocky grin on his lips again. "Or was that just a random phase?"

Arthur attempted to gather his thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence, but found that this was a surprisingly difficult thing to do. In fact, not a single word passed over his lips; all he did was to glare slightly at the younger man, who laughed softly.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd be mute after that," Alfred said. "That's a real surprise." His grin faded to a slight smirk as he placed three fingers against Arthur's lips. "I think you know what I want you to do, don't you? Just try not to piss me off."

For a moment, Arthur hesitated; but then he reluctantly opened his mouth and began to lick and suck on the fingers, drawing a pleased sound from the younger man.

_I should bite his fingers off_, Arthur thought to himself, but nonetheless closed his eyes and continued. _W-Why don't I just do that...? Damnit, why am I doing what he wants me to do?! T-this is humiliating!_

The fingers were quickly withdrawn, and Alfred leant in to give his captive another kiss.

"Be nice now," he whispered, his lips still touching Arthur's. "Be nice, and I won't need to be rough with you. It's you first time, it should be enjoyable..."He hoisted up one of the older man's legs on his shoulder and gently pressed one of the saliva-coated fingers to the tight entrance. "If you kick me, I'm going to have to do something very mean to you." His eyes gleamed. "You're mine."

Without any further warning, the finger was pressed in, and Arthur let out a loud yelp. He could hardly deny that it hurt a bit, but it was mostly the feeling of discomfort that made him start to thrash around. He did, however, manage to stop himself from kicking the boy, who only smirked at his violent reaction. After only a moment, a second digit entered, making the Brit gasp and bite his lip. Once Alfred began to scissor his fingers to stretch the opening, Arthur stubbornly closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, intent on not making a single sound. But admittedly, it was difficult... Especially when the American didn't seem to want to treat him too gently. Another moment passed, and the third finger pushed into him, and Arthur gave a strangled gasp. The bloody git was being too forceful...!

_B-bloody hell, stupid..._ Arthur shivered and bit down on his lip again, feeling how his teeth drew blood. _N-not so... Not so rough... N-not so bloody-_

"_Aahn_..!"

The moan passed over his lips before he was even aware of that he was about to make a sound; it surprised him, but when he saw the smirk on the brat's face, he realised what it was.

"Ah, there it is," Alfred chuckled. "Let's see what we can do, then..."

Arthur squirmed, and found himself crying out as the fingers seemed to brush over the very same spot. He felt himself tremble violently, he heard his own voice whisper very incoherent words; he couldn't bring himself to really make sense, and he wanted to make the brat _stop_! Or... Did he? Did he really want him to stop...? Time and time again, those fingers made him cry out and gasp, and soon he found himself attempting to push back against them and even letting out a whine when Alfred's fingers disappeared. Calmly, the American stuck his hand in his pocket and picked up a bottle with what Arthur guessed was lube. A Cheshire Cat-grin was on Alfred's lips again, and he calmly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

"Be nice, okay?" He chuckled. "I'll try to be gentle."

He pushed down his pants and boxers a bit, just enough to expose his own erection. Arthur managed to stop himself from saying anything, but he could not stop himself from staring. It was _big_. Bigger than he had expected, actually... And _that_ was going to push inside him, take his virginity whether he wanted to or not...

"Y-you can't be serious," he whispered hoarsely, watching how the American removed the cap on the bottle and took quite a generous amount of lube in his hand. "You really... You can't just be..."

A chuckle passed over the brat's lips as he began to coat his entire length with the lube.

"I'm serious," he replied. "_Really_ serious. I wouldn't do this otherwise, you know. You're mine, okay?"

Arthur felt himself shiver again; there was no way out of this, apparently, absolutely no way... Alfred simply put the cap on the bottle again and threw it over his shoulder, not wanting to bother more with it. The best part was about to come, after all. He smirked and leant down, pressing a kiss against the Brit's neck before he lifted the other leg as well and began to press against the entrance.

"It'll probably hurt at first," he whispered, looking straight into those gorgeous emerald eyes. "Just try to relax."

And with that, he plunged into the tight heat, a moan escaping his lips just as Arthur cried out in pain.

The sensation of having someone inside him was entirely new to the Englishman, who now fought to gain control over his breathing; was it meant to hurt this much, when the brat had stretched him and used that much lube? Then again, the American was big, and Arthur was, no, _had been_ a virgin. Until a few seconds ago. While he had sometimes wondered what it would be like to sleep with a man, he had definitely never imagined that he would be handcuffed to a bed and practically _raped_. Or... Was it rape, when he actually felt pleasure and for some reason wanted this to continue...? And when the brat doing this to him actually held still to make sure that he got used to the feeling...?

_Yes_, he decided. _T-this is n-nothing more than r-rape! He k-kidnapped me and dragged me h-here, only t-to rape me, and, and he's h-hurting me..!_

Alfred shifted slightly, which resulted in that he pushed a bit deeper in, making Arthur wince and whimper. The pain was dulling slowly, but it seemed that the American didn't have that much patience left. Moments later, he began to slowly thrust into the tight heat that surrounded him, and Arthur could only close his eyes and whimper, begging quietly that it wouldn't hurt too much. And for the time being, it seemed that Alfred wanted to be careful. But Arthur did wonder what the brat was doing once he began to "aim" from different angles; moments later, everything in front of his eyes seemed to disappear for a split second in a white haze, and he heard himself cry out.

"Oh _God_, yes! Right there!"

Alfred chuckled silently and leant in to kiss the squirming man beneath him.

"Alright," he whispered teasingly and thrust again, a wide grin coming to his lips as the Brit cried out once more. "Right. There."

Arthur shivered violently; he could really feel how his own body gave in to the intense pleasure. He heard his own voice cry out, pleading for more. He felt his hips buck and his back arch. And when Alfred held still for a moment, only to see what reaction he'd trigger, the Englishman began to thrash around, letting out gasps, whines and moans.

"Aah..! N-no, don't... d-don't just stop, y-you idiot...!"

Alfred chuckled, and immediately began to move again, their moans almost vibrating in the otherwise silent room. Following Arthur's moaned requests, Alfred put more force behind the thrusts and slowly began to speed up; the Brit moaned loudly, even cried out in pleasure every time the sweet spot was hit. A slight amount of pain was still there, but it was well mixed up with everything else. The few times Arthur actually felt it, he immediately forgot about it again.

Alfred groaned loudly and pressed the older man against the mattress, mercilessly pounding into him without thinking about holding back. For the time being, Arthur was his, and he was going to make the most of it. And hearing the cop moan loudly because of what _he_ was doing made it all feel even better, even more amazing.

"Aah..! Arthur...!"

Only saying the man's name felt strangely erotic; he wasn't sure about _why_. But that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered right now was that Arthur was his, that he had waited for this for quite some time now. That he _needed_ this. He pressed himself against his captive, planting light kisses over his neck, and let out a breathless laugh when he heard the man whimper.

"Mnh... Arthur..." A few more kisses. "This is... _ah_! It's even better than I... nh... t-than I thought..." He nipped at the flushed skin. "You're mine... You're mine..."

Azure eyes stared into emerald ones; it didn't quite look like Arthur was certain about what he was looking at, but a moment later he looked away again. Alfred smiled and pushed himself in all the way, watching how the Englishman's eyes widened, how his mouth opened to let out a loud moan again. Erotic. There was no other word for it, there just couldn't be. Everything the man did right now was downright erotic, and it was getting to Alfred in an incredible way. The thrusting sped up, and Arthur's moans got louder and louder, soon turning into wild cries of pleasure as the sweet spot was continually assaulted. Everything was steadily building up, and Alfred felt that he'd need to let it out soon, when he suddenly heard the Brit moan something he had not quite expected.

"_Aaah_...! A-Alfred...!"

The American's lips immediately descended on Arthur's, his tongue pushing into the older man's mouth, at the same time letting his self-control fly out the window as he moaned into the kiss and thrust wildly, only barely aware of how Arthur's hips were bucking, how he tried to bring their bodies closer than what was possible. The Brit pulled at the handcuffs; he wanted his hands loose, he wanted to touch, to explore the American brat's body with his hands, not only his eyes. He knew that it would be over soon, far too soon... He wanted this to last longer, but at the same time he couldn't take much more...

"A-Alfred, I... _Haa_...!"

He knew all too well what was happening. And once it started, there was no stopping it, despite how everything seemed to slow down. A moan that slowly built in strength until it was a wild cry that filled the air. He heard Alfred gasp as the muscles clamped down around him, making it hard for him to move. He felt his back arch in an almost impossible angle, and everything in front of his eyes, except for those beautiful half-lidded sky blue eyes, disappeared in that welcoming familiar white haze as he came. Alfred continued to thrust into him, slow but powerful movements that never failed to find that special spot. Seven, eight, nine... At ten, he pushed as far in as he could, moaning Arthur's name when he released. Once he was spent, he slowly pulled out, planted a kiss on his captive's forehead and laid down beside him.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, still trying to calm his breathing. "_God_, that was..."

Arthur squirmed a little bit; his wrists felt sore (along with other parts), and he wanted to get the handcuffs off so that he'd be allowed to relax properly. And sure enough, after only a moment, Alfred forced himself to sit up and turn on a lamp on a small nightstand, pulled out a drawer and began to rummage through it.

_... Why didn't I notice that nightstand before_, Arthur thought to himself, barely registering the thought at all. _It's right there, and I didn't notice it..._

Alfred smiled happily as he picked up a key.

"Well, I doubt you'll run out," he laughed as he began to remove the cuffs. "You're probably kind of sore, aren't you?"

Once the cuffs were off, Arthur flexed his fingers for a moment before clenching his fist and hitting Alfred with whatever strength he could muster. A satisfied smile spread on his lips as the brat yelped and promptly fell off the bed, now nursing his jaw.

"Hey, what the hell?!" Alfred glared at the older man. "I was nice, and I removed them! Why did you hit me?!"

Arthur chuckled silently and laid down again, rolling over on his side; he wanted to sleep, even if he did need to clean up a bit.

"I've wanted to do that since I regained consciousness in this room," he replied sweetly. "Be glad that I haven't done anything else, you git."

The American stared at him for a moment before slowly getting up from the floor. He grabbed the covers and pulled them out from beneath the Brit, calmly getting into the bed before he pulled the covers over them both, not caring if they were stained.

"You're mine," he whispered softly as he planted a kiss on the already sleeping Englishman's cheek. "Only mine. Don't you dare to forget that."

* * *

"Ooh, he was really possessive!"

"Ah... Uhm... I don't really know about that, Elizabeta... He did let me go, and... I just couldn't do anything to him after that..."

"But he did land in prison!"

"T-that wasn't my fault! I stayed away from him, I never thought he'd get himself caught like that! Stupid git..."

"He was released a few days ago, right? Aren't you going to see him?"

"He's in that rehabilitation program... That new one. I don't really know where he is, but I don't think that he left the town. I mean, Francis is still going out with his brother..."

Arthur sighed quietly when his colleague, Elizabeta, finally left him in peace. It had been quite some time since that incident, and his superiors still didn't know what had happened to him; he had told the truth about chasing some brats, and then he only tweaked the story a little bit by claiming that he had been knocked unconscious by someone, only to wake up in his bed at home, with his siblings taking care of him. Nothing had been revealed until two months later, when Alfred had been caught along with Matthew. Due to his rather "odd" reaction to the news, some of his colleagues had pestered him constantly, stubbornly trying to make him tell them about what had happened. A little at a time, the story was finally told, and Elizabeta had finally managed to squeeze the last drop out.

"Don't think about that now," he muttered to himself. "Just finish this, and then you're free to go home... And you have a few days off now, remember?"

He sighed deeply, working quickly. He wanted to go home, after all, without having to run into Bonnefoy on the way out.

Everything had gone back to normal... Or at least as normal as it could be. He was back at home, and back to his normal daily routine. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unexpected happening. And the drive home was ever so uneventful, ever so boring. Once he pulled up on the driveway by his house, he let out a deep sigh.

"Well... I'm home," he muttered to himself as he got out of the car. "A cup of tea, maybe a good book... Don't feel like cooking anything right now..."

But once he walked up to the door, unlocked it and opened, the distinct scent of _food_ hit him like a tidal wave. He blinked in surprise and then slowly stepped inside, glancing around. He did not see his brothers' jackets on the hallstand as he expected. Instead, there was a single bomber jacket, and on the floor stood a pair of sturdy combat boots. No one he knew wore clothes like that, right...? Unless Francis finally decided to get rid of that awfully flashy blue one... Besides, that music that seemed to come from the radio in his kitchen was hardly something that Francis would listen to. He brought himself to the doorway of the kitchen, and then stopped dead in his tracks to stare in shock. That someone had cooked was more than obvious. The table was set for two, and there was quite much food. But that was not what he stared at. On the other chair sat a blonde youth with sky blue eyes and glasses, grinning happily at him.

"Welcome home, Arthur!" Now, if he didn't recognise that voice, God would surely have struck him with lightning or something. "I just finished making dinner for us, so come and eat!"

Arthur didn't move an inch as the young man got to his feet, crossed over to the doorway and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Hey, I knew you'd be surprised," Alfred said and laughed. "Just remember how to breathe, okay?"

Arthur blinked slowly. And then promptly whacked the brat on the back of his head.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you," he yelled. "How the fuck did you get into my house?!"

Alfred laughed and backed off a little.

"You don't lock your back door," he replied happily. "Getting in was easy, I'm surprised you haven't been robbed!" He poked at the Brit's forehead. "Now. Dinner? Or do you want my awesome cooking to go to waste?"

Arthur slowly swallowed his shock and allowed the brat to take his jacket and his bag, and then to lead him to the table and sit him down. He barely listened when the American happily began to talk about how everything was going, how he even got a part-time job thanks to the program, and so on. All Arthur did was eat and watch the lad. He truly hadn't changed, had he...? But he didn't even act like he remembered that time... Then again, it could just be that he didn't focus on that right now. But once they were done eating and Arthur made an attempt to gather the plates, Alfred firmly took his hand and led him into the living room.

"You just got home from work, man," he chided. "Workaholic much? Look, I'll take care of it, so just sit down and relax, okay?"

He wandered back to the kitchen, leaving Arthur to slowly sink down on the sofa. He normally took care of everything on his own, so he wasn't too used to having someone else do it for him. He _needed_ to do something... And luckily, he knew just what. He got to his feet and walked over to a table in a corner, opening a box on it and picked out his embroidery. He hadn't worked on this for a while, but now that he had nothing to do... He smiled to himself and sat down again, calmly beginning to work. He had almost forgotten just how relaxing he used to think embroidery was... He didn't need to think much about what he was doing, his fingers worked on their own. He was barely aware of how time passed; the only thing he really noticed was that Alfred was suddenly there, watching him intently.

"_You_ have _that_ as a hobby?" The blue eyes blinked incredulously. "You're really _serious_?"

Arthur glared back at him.

"Yes, I'm serious," he muttered. "It's relaxing. What about you? Is annoying me your only hobby?"

Alfred laughed and sat down next to him on the sofa.

"Not really," he admitted. "But it _is_ kind of funny, because of your reactions." He still didn't look away, and began to slowly lean closer. "Besides... you haven't asked me to leave. Do you want me here?"

Arthur blushed heavily and tried to move away, but was quickly stopped as the American grabbed him and pulled him close.

"D-don't be so bloody stupid," Arthur gasped. "Y-you can't just... damn it, j-just get away, you're t-too close...!"

A moment later, he was on his back with Alfred hovering above him, donning a wide grin as usual.

"I meant what I said back then," Alfred said softly and trailed his hand through Arthur's hair. "You're mine, Arthur... Only mine. And I think that you don't dislike me as much as you claim."

With that, he closed the distance between them and kissed the older man, taking note of the definite lack of resistance. Arthur shivered slightly and put his arm around the young man, holding him close as the lips travelled down to his neck.

"If you tease me again," he whispered, "I swear I'll hit you and call the police..."

Alfred laughed and nipped at the pale skin.

"Whatever you say, _officer Kirkland_."

* * *

**Please review? :3 Pwetty pwease?**


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